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Grandmother Rocker 

A Costume Play in One Act 



By 
TRACY D. MYGATT 

Author of ''Bird's Nest^ *'The Noose ^ "Children 

of Israel," "Good Friday," " Crystal s 

Career," and other plays. 



NOTICE 

This play is published for amateurs. Professional com- 
panies are forbidden the use of it in any form or under any 
title, without the consent of the author, who may be ad- 
dressed in care of the publishers. 




BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY 

1922 



P5 35^5 
Ye&r 

Grandmother Rocker 



CHARACTERS 

The Bride and Groom. 

Grandmother Rocker. 

Grandfather Armchair, 

Louisa Quinze. 

The Little Chair. 

The Littlest Chair. 

The Footstool Baby, 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 

Polly. 

Great-Grandfather Clock, and— Ugh ! 

The Auctioneer. 

Scene. — An old room in an old house. 
Time.— The day they have been dreading. 




Copyright, 1922, by Tracy D. Mygatt. 
Al/ rights reserved 



^^i 



K'r^ 



C!.D GOHliO 



^f 



^ To 



Eileen Mary 

these first playmates 

for 

her first-of-all 

Birthday 



NOTE FOR THE PRODUCER 

In the production of " Grandmother Rocker " the 
direction will undoubtedly vary with the available 
stage-craft. Though the author feels that the best 
effect will be gained where it is possible to create 
the illusion of the characters stepping directly from 
the pieces of furniture they represent, this identifica- 
tion can be attained through other methods. It is 
suggested, for instance, that the costumes follow 
coloring and texture of furniture as closely as pos- 
sible. Judicious use of inconspicuous screens, espe- 
cially, perhaps, in the case of Grandfather Arm- 
chair and Grandmother Rocker, will aid in solving 
the problem. The chief solution, after all, will lie 
in quick and clever acting, whether this be done by 
children, as the author would prefer, or by adults. 
The stage directions in the text are obviously literary 
and suggestive rather than technical and dogmatic, 
and the author believes that any ingenious director 
will work out an effective set. 



Grandmother Rocker 



ACT I 



SCENE. — A large room, empty except for a good hit 
of old-fashioned furniture. And let me explain 
at once that this furniture is so very old-fash- 
ioned that unless you care for that kind of thing, 
you have no right — no matter how much you 
have bought your ticket, to see this play, and 
still less to act in it yourself. And if you won- 
der how you can act in it — seeing that the Arm- 
chair and the Rocker, and even the Footstool, 
have just as big print on the program as Mrs. 
PoMFUSS and the Bride herself, — well, that^ is 
the nice part, because the Play is the realest kind 
of make-believe, and, when you get down to it, 
Shakespeare himself is only a Play! 

The minute after the curtain is up, the House- 
keeper — her name is Mrs. Pomfuss — comes in 
through the door, r., and begins to dust. {This 
is true in all proper plays, except when it is some- 
times the Butler.) And as she dusts, she mutters 
to herself, as they all do, and you want to listen 
{which is just what she wants you to do), so 
there you are, safe inside! Also, you want to 
watch, for just noiv when she passed the duster 
over that inlaid table, rather to the centre of the 
room, the large dark cloth which hangs down all 
I 



2 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

round it, seemed to jerk a little — not by her 
fingers! — and there was just the suspicion of a 
snigger — (the kind of snigger the youngest kin- 
der ga^'ten child makes, if you remember) I And 
yet there is no one about but the Housekeeper, 
comfortable and fat and dressed in black silk, 
with a bunch of keys at her waist; and of course 
the furniture I have mentioned, — a battered ma- 
hogany secretary and hautboy to R. and l., rear; 
the shiny horsehair Sofa with the stuffing coming 
out, across the back of the room; the Rocker 
and Armchair in the usual places; a dainty 
little Louis Quinze chair perked out self-im- 
portantly toward the centre. There are a 
couple of little bits of chairs and a Footstool, 
all three of the latter jumbled round together 
near the Sofa, about the Fireplace, which I hope 
is zirhere it shoidd be, for there is nothing like 
a Fireplace to make you feel cosy on a chilly 
December afternoon like this, — the Fireplace, 
and the Great-Grandfather Clock in the corner 
beside it. Now whether Mrs. Pomfuss heard 
the snigger, or whether her sudden desire for 
company is due to pure excitement, I don't know; 
but she is certainly flustered, and, dropping her 
duster on the table, she steps to the door, R., 
and calls. 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 

Polly ! Oh, Polly ! Wherever are you ? [Then, 

to herself.] Land sakes, that girl gets lazier every 

day! And them due in half an hour ! Polly! 

[Giving it up, she returns to the table. But a queer 
thing has happened, for in the moment of her ab- 
sence, a chubby arm shot out from under the table, 
groped about a minute, then grabbed the duster, which 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 3 

was hanging down, and pulled it quickly underneath! 
Perceiving her duster gone, Mrs. Pom fuss tries to 
repress a jump; again mutters, "Land sakes!" looks 
all over the table for it; and then starts, more sen- 
sibly, to raise the cloth and look under the table. 
But as she thinks of this, there is evidently a shiver 
down her spine, for she abruptly leaves the table 
altogether, and runs to the door, calling into the hall. ] 

Polly ! Come here at once ! I want you ! 

[There being no answer, she flings one scared 
glance back at the room and then bolts, 
slamming the door behind her. And then, 
quite naturally, a gentle old lady, Grand- 
mother Rocker, precisely our idea of a 
grandmother, hobbles toward the table. I 
don't know whether she was in the Rocker 
all the time, and we did not see her; or 
whether she was inside it, or maybe behind 
it; but she belongs to the Rocker; or rather 
she is the Rocker, as you would know if 
you understood such things. And her 
dress, — old rose upholstery trimmed with 
fringe, is exactly like the Rocker. And the 
expression on her plump, faded pink cheeks 
shows she understands about the duster and 
intends to deal with it. 



Grandmother Rocker. 
[Hobbling toward the table.] You rogue! You 
naughty little rogue! [But her voice is no angrier 
than your grandmother's.] Come out of that this 
minute, or you shan't have a cooky for a week! 
[There is again the snigger, unmistakable this time, 
and the old lady, bending forward and raising the 
table-cover, pulls out the Footstool Baby, a rosy 



4 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

little fellow of three. He wears kilts, and he is so 
round that even without the brown rep ruffles, he 
curiously resembles the reddish-brown Footstool over 
by the Fireplace. He holds out the duster tri- 
umphantly. As she takes it from him, she goes on.] 
Yes, indeed, Granny sees it, and Granny's got it! 
Poor Mrs. Pomfuss ! How often must I tell you not 
to play pranks, — and to-day especially, — when she's 
naturally upset ! 

[But he closes her mouth with kisses, and as 
she drops the duster back on the table, he 
shoves her toward the Rocker, on which, all 
the time murmuring ''Dear me! Dear me! 
This will never do!" she sits down. And 
straightway he is in her lap, fumbling for 
cookies in her pocket. And while this has 
been occurring, the Great-Grand father Clock 
strikes ''Four" and — on my word! — no 
sooner has it finished than there steps from 
behind it — from within it — a delightful old 
gentleman, Great-Grandfather Clock. 
He wears doublet, hose, and a bright blue 
coat; and though his face is the dial of the 
Clock, round which grows a set of fluffy 
white whiskers, he speaks very clearly as he 
moves quickly, almost friskily, to the side of 
the Rocker. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[To the old lady.] I always said you'd be like 
this, my dear ! No discipline ! No discipline ! You 
told the baby yesterday not to get under the table 
when Mrs. Pomfuss was about, and then — [And he 
is right!] you feed him! Hoity-toity! One cooky — 
two cookies ! How many more, I wonder ! Now, in 
my young days 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 5 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Placidly cuddling the Footstool Baby.] Well, 
I must say, Father, if I can't give my own grandchild 

a cooky ! Positively, you talk like one of these 

heartless modern mothers. I wouldn't have believed 
it! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Coming close and letting the Baby stroke his 
face.] Well, I dare say you're right, my dear! He 
is a sweet child! But — [Restlessly.] we mustn't 
waste time ! We mustn't waste time ! Presently that 
tiresome Mrs. Pomfuss will be back again, and no 
telling but the giggling housemaid with her, and here 
we haven't formed our plans yet ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[A little uneasily.] Well, they haven't arrived 
yet ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
No, not yet! But they're due — I heard her say 
they're due in half an hour. 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Rocking softly, the Footstool Baby curled in her 
lap; I'm afraid he is sucking his thumb!] Well, 
don't you go and get excited, Father dear! [Rather 
■wistfully.] Like as not they won't come into this 
room the first day ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Wistfully, too.] No, I suppose not! Though 
Mrs. Pomfuss was dusting like anything, and if they 
should come, our plans are not formed at all ! 



6 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER * 

Grandmother Rocker. 

Well, the great thing is not to get excited. Now 
I used to think Cousin Agatha — \She points to the 
Horsehair Sofa.] was the better for a little excite- 
ment. But you — you know if you're the least ex- 
cited, you're liable to get fast, and then they'll simply 
send for the Clock-Mender and he'll 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 

[ With a warning gesture. ] Hush ! I can't 

bear it ! That time last year — just because I was two 

hours fast ! He took out all my insides ! 

Of all the humiliating ! I haven't felt right 

since ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Touching his arm gently.] There, there! Don't 
think of it ! I'm sure old Mrs. Pomfuss won't do it 
again ! 

[Barely has she finished than there is a rustle 
at the door, l., and in trips a young lady, 
Louisa Quinze, in little gilt slippers. She 
is so pretty, and has such silky yellow curls 
about her fluffy, gilt-trimmed dress, that we 
see at once she belongs to, — or is — the Louis 
Quinze chair, toward which she goes at 
once. She is obviously excited, and speaks 
in a pretty, high-pitched voice. 

Louisa Quinze. 
[As she enters.] Old Mrs. Pomfuss will do worse 
than that ! Much worse ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
Why, Louisa Quinze, what on earth do you mean? 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER J 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[With gloomy dignity.] Speaking for myself, any- 
thing worse than the Clock-Mender is incredible ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Anxiously, soothing the Footstool Baby, who has 
begun to whimper.] How do you know, Louisa? 
And where on earth have you been ? 

[Louisa Quinze has now seated herself on 
the Louis Quinze, and has carefully spread 
out her fluffy gilt ruffles. But she looks as 
unhappy as anybody with such curls can. 

Louisa Quinze. 
Well, I find it quite impossible to stay at home the 
way some of you do. Of course this room has never 

been the same to me since — since 

[She gives a small, heart-broken sniff, and 
stops. 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Gently.] My dear, we appreciate your feelings, 
and honor you for them. But pray go on. 

Louisa Quinze. 
[Resuming zvith effort, pride coming to her rescue.] 
And not being so comfortably made as some — 
[Glancing at Grandmother Rocker, who is rocking 
placidly, she gives her pretty head a toss.] though of 
course I couldn't think of changing places 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Under her breath.] I should think not! Such 
very small feet must be really painful! [To the 
Footstool Baby.] There, there, my precious! It's 
all right ! Aunt Louisa's just a little upset! 



8 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Louisa Ouinze. 
\Desperately.\ Oh, not a little ! I'm terribly, ter- 
ribly upset ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
\ln spite of himself, he frisks as he goes to her.] 
My dear, I hope not ! You might go over. 

Louisa Quinze. 
I see what you mean, sir, but it wouldn't much 

matter if I did. Except [With an hysterical 

giggle.] I suppose if I upset and broke, I wouldn't 
bring so much. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Turning quite pale.] Louisa! What do you 
mean? 

Louisa Quinze. 
[She loves, even in a painful story, to he the centre 
of attention.] Well, I was out in the corridor, and I 
heard them — that wicked Mrs. Pom fuss and Polly the 
housemaid — talking. And Mrs. Pomfuss has sent 
for — has sent for [But she simply can't finish! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Sternly.] Whom has she sent for? 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[ With a glance at the Armchair, as Louisa Quinze 
continues to sob; she is rocking violently.] Oh, my 
rocker! I wish Henry were awake! He's the only 
one can do anything with Louisa when she's in these 
moods ! 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 9 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Touching his minute-hand.] It's certainly time 
he woke up ! 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[Through a yawn.] I am awake ! [With another 
yawn. ] Very wide awake ! [ With a tremendous 
yawn.] I've been awake practically all the time. 

[But he has not yet become visible to the audi- 
ence. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Tartly.] Well, it's a mercy you found it out! 
[Then, as an old gentleman with a high white stock 
emerges from somewhere about the Armchair — he 
must have had his nap deep in its cushions.] Now, 
Son-in-law, you ask her. 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[Trying to concentrate ; — though he is so much 
younger than Great-Grandfather Clock, he feels 
and acts older. ] Ask who — what? 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[With jeering briskness.] Humph! I thought 
you said you'd been awake all the time, Henry ! 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[As before, very slowly.] I said — I'd been — 
awake — practically — all the time. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 

[ With a snort. ] Humph ! Much you know about 

time ! Young whippersnapper ! " Practically all the 

time ! " Now what earthly meaning is there in 

that ? " Practically all the time ! " No, no ! Time 



lO GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

isn't practical. It's the most impractical thing in the 
world. Lovers — having a cosy time in the moon — 
over before they know it. And a toothache — lasts 
forever ! No, no, time isn't at all practical. So how 
can it be "practically"? Eh? [Then, disgustedly, 
with his idee fixe.] And here am I — if I'm ahead a 
single minute 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[She is always the peacemaker.] Hush, Father 
dear ! I'm sure you and Henry are both right ! And 
certainly we all know that if one drops off a single 
second, everything important happens right then. 
I've often noticed it with myself when Henry's been 
reading me the newspaper — especially politics, you 
know. Of course it's no concern of women's, and 
yet even there he doesn't like it if I drop off for 

Louisa Quinze. 
[ With dreary sarcasm. ] Go on talking. I wish I 
could. I wish I didn't know what I know. 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[Approaching her with determination.] Out with 
it, girl. 

Louisa Quinze. 
[Flinging herself into his arms.] Oh, sir, — sir — 
Mrs. Pomfuss has sent for — the Auctioneer ! 

[There is a moment of terrible silence, in 
which each takes in the fidl measure of the 
shock; for to these dear people "Auctioneer" 
is quite the most terrible word in the lan- 
guage. What the Work-House is to the 
poor; what the slave-block was to the slave, 
that, every inch of it, is the Auctioneer to 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER II 

them. And yet, in a moment, there is a 
brave attempt to rally. 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[Bravely, placing Louisa gently on the Louis 
Quinze chair.] Something must be done ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[With nervous decision.] How much time have 
we? That is the important thing, whether the rest 
of you know it or not ! In this crisis time is the 
important thing! Now let me see — [He presses his 
hand pathetically to his dial forehead.] if I could go 
slow, — very slow — would it perhaps postpone his 
coming ? 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[With tender firmness.] No, Father dear, that is 
too much for you to attempt. Let me think 

Louisa Quinze. 
[Mournfully.] There isn't any time to think! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[For the first time, there is indignation in her gentle 
voice.] Louisa! Did Mrs. Pomfuss say the Groom 
told her to send for the — the Auctioneer? 

Grandfather Armchair. 
Oh, my castors and Pollux ! A Groom couldn't be 
so wicked as that ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
Don't swear, Henry! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
Might it have been the Bride, do you think, Louisa? 



12 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Louisa Ouinze. 
{Family.^ It wasn't clear to me. I don't think 
she said ! But I suppose it's the Bride — ^horrid, new- 
fangled things Brides are! I never could abide 
them! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[With a sign to her husband.] Since her disap- 
pointment, Henry. The poor child cared so much she 

pretends she doesn't care at all. Sh 1 [As he 

attempts to address Louisa.] Let us not believe ill 
of the Bride I And say nothing to the children, 
Louisa ! I'm thankful they were asleep ! 

[But at a sudden sound from the Little Chairs, 
Grandmother Rocker starts, with a mut- 
tered " Oh, mercy me! " And two little 
girls, the Little Chair and the Littlest 
Chair, about five and six, wearing short 
straw-trimmed pinafores and pantalettes, 
looking extraordinarily like the two little 
wicker chairs from which they have been 
craning their necks the last few minutes^ 
scamper tozvard their Grandmother. 

Little Chair. 
No, we weren't. Granny. We were wide awake all 
the time ! 

Littlest Chair. 
[As she speaks, she tweaks the old gentleman's 
coat-tails, which are a temptation.] Much wider 
than Grandfather. Hee-hee ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[As he turns upon them. ] Little eavesdroppers ! 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 1 3 

Little Chair. 
No, we didn't drop anything, Granny. Not a thing ! 

Littlest Chair. 
And now we want a cooky. 

Grandfather Armchair. 
{Trying to he stern, after he has adjusted Ms up- 
holstered coat-tail. ] Cookies aren't for naughty chil- 
dren like you ! 

Little Chair. 
A peppermint'll do. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
Peppermints indeed! 

Littlest Chair. 
Or a animal cracker ! 

Little Chair. 
Or a jackson-ball ! 

Grandfather Armchair. 
Did you ever hear such talk ? 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Backing him up.] I should think not, indeed? 

Grandmother Rocker. 

They've grown that bold 1 [Then, as they 

smiggle about her, she helplessly begins to draw 
dainties out of her pocket, in which she is powerfully 
assisted, even the Footstool Baby rousing for a 
nibble. ] Well, well, I suppose you must ! 

[Cramming as much of the cookies and candy 



14 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

as they can into their months, they retire to 
their little chairs, where they seat them- 
selves. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Impatiently ] What were we saying? Those 

children [With a dexterous movement, ^ I be- 

heve I will have a jackson-ball [Then, to re- 
cover his dignity. ^ I declare, they grow worse every 
day. 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Suddenly breaking down. ] Don't, Father ! Don't ! 
Oh, to think of how soon they may be torn from us ! 
All of the family scattered! [Kissing the sleeping 
hahy.] Even the baby! Like their father and 
mother before them — three years ago ! Oh — oh ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Brushing away a tear.] Oh, please don't cry I It 
makes me cry to see you — and I can't keep time if 
I cry. 

Louisa Ouinze. 
[In violent hysterics.] What difference does it 
make whether you keep time or not, when the 
Auctioneer 

Little Chair, Littlest Chair, Footstool Baby. 
[Their mouths full of cooky and jack son-halls, 
despairingly.] Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo-hoo ! Boo-hoo- 

hooo ■ ! 

\They are all crying so loud that they do not 
hear steps in the passage. But as the door 
opens, and Mrs. Pomfuss, accompanied by 
Polly, a pretty girl in maid's uniform, enters 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 1 5 

the room, they jump up and scurry away, 
Great-Grandfather Clock stepping hack 
into his frame; Grandfather Armchair 
deep into his cushions, and Grandmother 
Rocker, after she has deposited the Foot- 
stool Baby on his footstool, retiring from 
view. But upon the talk that follows an 
occasional sniff and blubber may be heard, 
especially from behind the little chairs. 
Only Louisa Quinze still sits erect in her 
gilt chair, but she is very stiff and still, and 
seldom pays any attention to the conversa- 
tion. The Footstool Baby is again sound 
asleep. 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
Yes, I've been that flustered all day, you could 
knock me over with a feather ! 

Polly. 
[Respectfully.] It's a fact you was white as a 
sheet when you come down to the kitchen. 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
Well, it'd fair give you the creeps if one minute 
you'd had a duster in your hand, and the next 

Polly. 
[Going to the table, and picking up the duster.] 
Why, here it is, Mrs. Pomfuss! [Beginning to 
laugh. ] I guess you need some bigger specs ! 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Regarding it suspiciously, and not touching it.] 
Well, it wasn't there ! It wasn't there ! Not nohow ! 



l6 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Polly. 
\Passmg it vigorously over the Rocker; she seems 
not to hear a sudden gasp.] Best to have 'em clean 
an' straight if the Auctioneer comes to-day ! 

Mrs. Pom fuss. 
[Breathlessly.] Well, I hope he don't come, Polly. 
I thought he'd have got here yesterday, or I'd never've 
sent. As if I didn't have enough on my mind already 
with them comin' ! 

Polly. 
[Sentimentally.] To think of a bride's comin' 
here — an' me in the house ! 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Gloomily.] Likely you won't be here long — nor 
me neither ! Brides like a change — nothin' old suits. 
[There is a wistful sigh from the old Rocker, hut 
again the Housekeeper does not hear, going quickly 
on.] Now all this truck in here — it should've been 

cleared out long ago, but as it wasn't [A bell 

jangles through the house.] Oh, mercy me, why 
didn't he come yesterday? 

[And she rushes out of the room 

Polly. 
[Rapturously, to herself.] Maybe it's her! 

[Then she, too, runs out. 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Softly, heard, but not seen.] I can't believe that — 
what she said about Brides. 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 17 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Stepping out cautiously.] Hush, my dear! It*s 
true, I make no doubt. She'll have us carted away 
at once, so she'll have more money to spend! [Rais- 
ing his voice: ] Oh, the ignominy ! The ignominy ! 

Littlest Chair. 
[In a very small voice.] What's ig-o-min-y? 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Heard, but unseen.] Nothing, my darling! Noth- 
ing! [Then, as returning steps are heard.] Oh, it 
can't be true ! It can't be true ! 

Louisa Quinze. 
[Contemptuously, but without movement.] Humph ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Slipping back into his frame, as a heavy tread ap- 
proaches. ] It sounds like an Auctioneer ! 

[And as the door is flung open, it is at once 
clear that the man Mrs. Pom fuss and Polly 
are ushering in is the Auctioneer. No 
other kind of a profession — not even a 
Butcher, — cotdd make a man look quite so 
horrible as this. In a word, he is so bad I 
hardly like to describe him, for in case the 
night-light should go out, and you alone, I 
really couldn't be responsible! But if you 
still press me, and must know, he is like — 
an Ogre! But here — you can see for your- 
self, — if you dare look. And you can see 
how Mrs. Pom fuss herself is so aware of it 
that she is very uncomfortable, and how 



1 8 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER ' 

Polly, as he comes blustering in, creeps 
close as she can, in Mrs. Pomfuss' large 
shadow. 

Auctioneer. 
[His voice is between an Ogre's and a Pirate's.] 

Well, I must say — I must say ! [As he speaks, 

he stamps about amongst the furniture.] One- 
penny — two-penny — [He pronounces it '' tuppeny."] 
three-penny Damn ! 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Cowering.] Please, sir, not to swear — at least 
where there's ladies ! 

Auctioneer. 
[Very insultingly.] I don't. One-penny. Tup- 
peny — three-penny Da ! 

Louisa Quinze. 
[Very distinctly, without change of expression.] 
Don't say that word again ! 

Auctioneer. 
[Cheerfully, without finishing.] Oh, well, what's 
the diff ? [He turns to Mrs. Pomfuss less unpleas- 
antly. ] But you did have a nerve to bring me here ! 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Plucking nervously at her dress. ] I know there's 
not much, sir, but 



I 



Auctioneer. 
Don't say that, woman! There is much — [With a 
sweep of his hand.] a whole cartload. But it won't 
bring much. Do you understand ? 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 19 

Mrs. Pom fuss. 
\l<leYvously.\ Yes, sir, I suppose so, sir! But it 
was very good furniture in its time, sir, and 

Auctioneer. 
[Contemptuously striking the Sofa where the horse- 
hair is most out.] In its time, yes, but when was its 

time? One-penny — tup [But he stops as a 

majestic "One!'' emanates from Great-Grand- 
FATHER Clock.] Um — not a bad old clock you've 
got there! 

Polly. 
[With a giggle.] If it would keep time, sir, but 
what good's a clock that goes too fast, sir? Why, 
you can't depend on it at all, sir. One day a while 

ago they sent for the Clock-Mender, but 

[There is an angry snort from behind the 
Clock, but Polly does not notice; what she 
does notice is a vigorous pinch from Mrs. 
Pom FUSS. 

Auctioneer. 
[Looking at Polly.] Continue, my dear, con- 
tinue ! — Don't pinch her arm, Mrs. P. ! And always 
remember, my dear, you're talking to an Auction^^r.' 
There's more poetry for you, but like as not you 
didn't hear, my dear! You're too pretty to be bright ! 
Quite too 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Bursting in indignantly.] That clock ain't fast! 
It never was fast! [There is a snort of satisfaction 
from behind the clock.] It's the best clock in the 

world! It [Then, as the door-bell rings.] 

There ! Sakes alive ! It's them ! Go down at once, 
Polly, and show them in the parlor — ^here! Wait a 



20 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

minute \As Polly, delighted, is about to start.] 

Oh, dear, I ought to go myself, I ought. What'll she 

think ? Oh, mercy me [As the bell rings again, 

louder this time, she turns to the Auctioneer despair- 
ingly.] Whatever did you come for? 

Auctioneer. 
[He is become completely the Ogre. Into the 
simplest zvords, he puts a hideous ferocity.] To get 
it ! To get it ! To get it ! Look at me ? What do 
you suppose I eat? 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[ With a gulp. ] I'm sure I don't know, sir ! 

Auctioneer. 
[Very terribly, to Polly. 1 What do you suppose 
I drink? 

Polly. 

I — I — I [But she can't speak. 

[Then, as the bell peals through the house the 
third time, and Mrs. Pomfuss and Polly, 
quite desperate, start to bolt, he grabs each 
by an arm, and shifts his weight from 
one foot to the other in a kind of weird 
dance, in which he is joined by both women. 

Auctioneer. 
[In a kind of chant, as all three dance slowly.] 
Example I — this morning- One bed; one Mor- 
ris-chair ; one player-piano — for breakfast ! Example 
2 — for lunch; a table, a chair — like that — [Pointing 
to the Louis Quinze.] and for dessert — a little chair, 
like that — [Pointing to the Littlest Chair.] juicy — 
sweet as sugar ! [As he pauses, there is a ter- 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 21 

nfied yell from the Littlest Chair. Again, the un^ 
fortunate women try to flee, but he clutches them 
with a hand like an iron vise.] And to wash it all 
down with ? [He looks ferociously from one to the 
other, still swaying slowly.] What kind of coffee? 

What kind of tea ? What kind of wine? What 

[He stops short as the door gently opens, and 
before the astounded eyes of all three, there 
composedly enter, arm in arm, the Bride 
AND Groom ! As they come, we almost 
catch an echo of the Lohengrin music, 
"Here comes the Bride! Here comes the 
Bride!" but this may be imagination, — and 
one must be accurate. At any rate, there is 
no doubt about the swallow-tail and white 
waist-coat he wears, nor the silk hat he car- 
ries; nor that he is very, very handsome. 
And she — bless her! — oh, she is every inch 
a Bride! Little and shy in her gleaming 
white satin and long veil, her white-gloved 
hand on the Groom's arm, carrying, as she 
trips along in her tiny white slippers, a de- 
licious, white-streamed nosegay, in which, 
from time to time, she buries her rosy face. 
Perhaps it is from smelling this so much — 
for changes come fast nowadays! — that her 
little nose turns up at just that delightful 
angle. At sight of Mrs. Pom fuss and 
Polly she smiles kindly, but as she takes in 
the Auctioneer, still holding them in such a 
grip, and the three still in their strange 
dance, she looks very astonished indeed. 

Bride. 
[Putting out her hand to Mrs. Pomfuss, as the 
Auctioneer hurriedly lets go, dancing now only 



22 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

With Polly. ] How do you do ? You are Mrs. Pom- 
fuss, aren't you? I hope we didn't startle you ! We 
rang first — but it was such fun to use the latch-key ! 
\As Mrs. Pomfuss courtesies desperately^ all her 
planned speeches flown away in her extreme em- 
barrassment.] And this is Polly! How do you do, 
Polly? [Again she puts out her hand, and the Auc- 
tioneer has to let go, the dancing stopped.] And 
this — er — gentleman? [As no one speaks, she turns 
to the Groom.] You never told me about him, 
Harry! 

Groom. 
[Also very surprised.] Why, dearest, I never set 
eyes on the man before I 

Bride. 
[With envious relief.] Then he doesn't live here! 
[Kindly, to the Auctioneer.] I don't want to hurt 

your feelings, but really you know — er [In the 

embarrassed silence, she turns again to Mrs. Pom- 
fuss. ] He's a friend of yours ? [Noting her blush, ] 
You're not — engaged to him? 



Auctioneer. 
[Twirling his hat.] Lor', no. Ma'am, beggin' your 
parding! Nor the other one neither — [With a jerk 
toward Polly. ] though not bad-lookin' ! No, Ma'am, 
that there one — [With a jerk at Mrs. Pomfuss.] the 
old one — sent for me. 

[As he pauses there is a gasp, a sigh, of ex- 
pectancy, from the various corners of the 
old room. Does the Bride hear it? Before 
she speaks, she looks about; then speaks. 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 23 

Bride. 
[Gently.] I see! [To Mrs. Pomfuss.] What 
did you send for him for ? And who is he ? 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Rubbing her hands together.] Well, you see, 

Miss — I mean Mrs. — but you do look so young ! 

[Turning to the Groom.] Oh, Mr. Harry, you done 
well for yourself, sir! She's a sight prettier'n even 
the picture you showed me ! 

Groom. 
[Graciously.] That's what I think, Mrs. Pomfuss ! 
That's why I've brought her here to the old home! 
[He turns to the Bride.] I say, dearest, let's not 
hang round here any more! It's a gloomy kind of 
place, as you see ! Everywhere else in the house 

there's new furniture, spick and span ! It's only 

this old room 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Scenting encouragement.] Exactly, sir! That's 
why I sent for him ! 

[With a jerk at the Auctioneer, mho im- 
mediately begins to smack his lips. 

Bride. 
[Dreamily.] It's a nice old room! My — my hus- 
band's often told me about it, but it's so much nicer 
than he said. [She looks half tenderly from one old 
piece to the other.] I could be fond of these things ! 

Why [In soft wonder to herself,] I think 

Fm getting fond of them already! 

Auctioneer. 
[With a loud smack.] So am I! Already! Al- 
ready! [He speaks fast and furiously.] Take 'em 



24 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

out now — right away — to-day ! Have a man — 

waiting with a van ! And then for dinner — ho, 

ho! let me see — let me see! \As he wanders about 
the room, touching one thing after the other, as all 
look on, spellbound.] The sofa and secretary to 
start with — and then, ah-ha ! — the Armchair, and 
the Rocker, — ho-ho ! The Rocker looks good, soft 

like sweet-breads ! That'll taste good — my 

teeth ain't what they were — cracked 'em last week on 

a bit of old mahogany ! And for dessert — — 

[He pauses straight in front of the Footstool, in 
which the Footstool Baby sits, still fast asleep.] 
For dessert — ha-ha! Ho-ho! This fat little Foot- 
stool ! 

[And he actually pokes it! But as the Foot- 
stool Baby, roused suddenly, digs his fat 
little knuckles into his eyes and sets up a 
howl, the Bride darts forward, her voice 
quivering with righteous indignation. 

Bride. 
How dare you touch that little Footstool? How 
dare you ? How dare you ? 

Groom. 
[Going over to her.] Be careful, dearest! [Hur- 
riedly in a whisper.] He's out of his head I 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Despairingly, as the Auctioneer lowers fero- 
ciously.] I never see such an Auctioneer ! 

Bride. 
[As if suddenly enlightened.] Oh — he's an 
Auctioneer! 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 2$ 

Groom. 
[In a nervous whisper,] But, dearest, — that 

doesn't explain ! Good heavens, I never heard of 

an Auctioneer's dining off furniture ! 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Having overheard. ] Nor me, neither, sir, — that's 
a fact! [To herself.] Though there's more'n one 
queer thing happens in this room, if you ask me. 

Auctioneer. 
[Suddenly controlling himself, his manner altering 
to one of cringing politeness.] Yes, Bride, I'm an 
Auctioneer — at your service! And considering 
there's such a lot — I'll do my best to get you, for the 
lot of 'em — one hundred dollars. 

Groom. 
[Indignantly.] One hundred! Why, that old 
clock alone cost 

Bride. 
Hush, Harry! [Taking the arm of the Auc- 
tioneer she escorts him politely toward the door.] 
Never mind, now, Mr. Auctioneer! Would you go 
down, please? [As he hesitates, she continues per- 
suasively, pointing down the corridor with her 
bouquet. ] Please, Mr. Auctioneer. You know they 
do anything for a Bride. 

Auctioneer. 
[Grudgingly. 1 Well — seein' you're a Bride 

Bride. 
[With a meaning gesture.] And Mrs. Pomfuss 
and Polly will see you out ! 



26 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Polly. 
\With a gasp.] I'm sure I'd do anythin' for a 
Bride, Miss, but 

Mrs. Pomfuss. 
[Scared again.] Perhaps if Mr. Harry was to 
come down, too 

Groom. 

[Aside to Bride.] The man's certainly a bit 
strange, dear, but as the servants feel that way about 
it, and as long as he's here, hadn't I better talk to him 
down-stairs? We'd have more money for our 
honeymoon — if we should come to terms? 

Auctioneer. 
[Briskly, overhearing the last words.] Yes, Bride, 
let your new husband come down to the droring- 
room. I might do better than a hundred. 

[For a moment the Bride looks about the room 
slowly, her eyes taking in the furniture, 
piece by piece; and, if your ears are sharp, 
you may hear a little whisper, — '' Dear 
Bride!" it comes, ever so faint, "Dear 
Bride I" but it can get no further. A mo- 
ment passes; then she smiles back at the 
Groom. 

Bride. 
Certainly, dear, I give you two minutes! But of 
course come back and tell me before you close with 
him! 

Groom. 
[Hesitating.] It's for you, you know! Of course 
the fellow's a nuisance, but I'm not very rich, and a 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 2y 

bit more money would be more use to us than all 
this — er — truck. 

Auctioneer. 
[Cheerily.] That's what I say, young sir. One- 
penny — two-penny — three-penny — Da 

Bride. 
[Hurriedly.] Two minutes, Harry. [They all 
go, and she waves them a gay good-bye. Then, 
alone, she looks again, searchingly, from piece to 
piece, as if trying to solve some puzzle. Then she 
sniffs at her nosegay, and, close beside the Louis 
Quinze chair, she thrusts the flowers straight into 
Louisa's face. And at the delight ftd smell Louisa, 
who has been sitting still as a statue, suddenly comes 
to life again, smiles eagerly, first at the flowers, then 
at the Bride, — a wistfid little smile. Bride, patting 
Louisa's shoulder, — though of course she never sees 
her, nor the others of the family.] What a pretty 
chair! Why, I think it would be a perfect shame 

to [She starts as Louisa, with timid daring, 

breaks off an orange blossom from the bouquet.] 
Why — I thought — something touched my nosegay ! 

Louisa Quinze. 
[In a quick gasp.] I did! I was to have had 
orange blossoms once and a veil like yours, and 
then — a man like that horrible man down-stairs came 
and 

Grandmother Rocker. 

[Coming softly out, soothing Lousia, as she 

speaks, quite naturally, to the Bride.] Yes, it was a 

great disappointment. You can understand, my 

dear. She was engaged to be married to the Throne- 



28 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Chair. They had brought it from abroad — a most 
suitable match, we all thought, and then 

Grandfather Armchair. 
[Coming eagerly forward.] He would have been 
my son-in-law. A great honor! A great honor! 
And then that horrible Auctioneer 

Little Chair. 

[Running over to the Bride.] And he took our 
Papa! 

Littlest Chair. 
[Scrambling out also, and running to the other side 
of the Bride.] And our Mamma! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
They were such a happy couple! And how they 
loved the children ! 

Bride. 
[Softly, to herself.] Why, it seems to me an 
Auctioneer is a terrible man! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Eagerly.] Yes, yes, my dear! You begin to un- 
derstand, don't you ? How it breaks up families ! 
Even if it is an exaggeration about — er — eating us — 
it breaks up families ! You won't let us go, will you ? 
[Clasping her hands.] Oh, my dear, you won't let 
us go! 

Bride. 
[Dreamily, her hand to her forehead.] Such a 
lovely room — just as it is ! It shouldn't be changed ! 
It — oh — [With a little yawn.] how sleepy I am ! 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 29 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Leading her gently to the Rocker.] Here, my 
dear ! Sit down and rest a moment ! It's very com- 
fortable ! 

Bride. 
[Sinking restfully hack upon the cushions as 
Grandmother Rocker smoothes her head softly, 
and starts the Rocker moving gently.] What a lovely 
chair! Soft and gentle like — like [Grand- 
mother Rocker leans forward and kisses her gently.] 

Why, it's like a dear old lady ! Like — why, I 

know — like a grandmother! [Dreamily holding out 

her arms.] Now if only I had — if I only had 

[And the Footstool Baby, mith a little run, clifnbs 
into her lap! She cuddles him, his head against her 
breast, his rosy little cheek gently covered by the 
wedding-veil ; then, dreamily, she continues, her half- 
closed eyes on the little footstool.] Why, it's almost 
like a baby, — that footstool. So fat and soft ! They 
mustn't take him. 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Frisking forward, as they stand, grouped about 
the dreaming Bride. ] Oh, my springs ! I wish it 
was time to strike ! But it isn't — it isn't ! And when 
I get fast 

Grandmother Rocker. 

You mustn't do that, Father dear! They'll send 
for the Clock-Mender ! 

Great-Grandfather Clock. 
[Rising on his toes in his excitement.] I know! 
But she's going to sleep! [Excitedly into her ear.] 



30 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Wake up, Bride ! It's two minutes ! Don't you 
hear? 

Bride. 
[Rousing herself a little.] Why, it's time he was 
back ! 

[She looks at the door and is about to rise 
and go to it when it opens and the Groom 
comes in. 

Groom. 
[Hurriedly.] Well, he'll give us a thousand, he 
says [His voice suddenly changing, very ten- 
derly, as if perceiving her for the first time.] Why, 
my darling, how lovely you look, sitting there ! 

Bride. 
[Holding out her arms to him, as he comes swiftly 
toward her. ] Send him away, Harry ! We don't 
v^ant the money. 

[There is a low sigh of relief, and the Foot- 
stool Baby rolls off the Bride's lap, and 
assisted by the Littlest Chair, toddles 
away to his footstool, on which he reseats 
himself. 

Groom. 
It would be convenient — living's high, you know. 

Bride. 
[Softly.] We don't want to break up families. 

Groom. 
[Startled.] Break up families? Why, I don't 
know what you mean, dearest! Of course it's sad 
for a family if they don't want to sell, and have 
their things auctioned off, but in this case 



GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 31 

Bride. 
[Dreamily. ] I didn't mean that ! These things — 
don't you think, Harry, don't you feel, they — I know 
it sounds funny, dear, — but they're sort of Hke a 
family — sometimes I think they are a family. They 
must have got so fond of each other, sitting here, 
year after year, — the old clock ticking off their time. 
[She nestles close.] Oh, Harry, tell that horrid man 
to go. 

Groom. 

[Gaily, as a door slams through the house.] That's 
he now — gone ! [ With a little laugh, he slips on his 
knees beside her, and, gathering her hands in his.] 
I knew you didn't want me to sell. Sweetheart. I 
could see it in your eyes ! So I told him not to wait 
but a minute ! 

Bride. 
Oh, thank you ! 

Louisa Quinze. 
Oh, thank you, thank you ! The family will be so 
happy, and for myself 

Bride. 
And another thing, Harry 



Groom. 
Anything, Sweetheart. 

Bride. 
Buy back all the old things that were sold here. 



There was a Chippendale 



Little Chair and Littlest Chair. 
[Breathlessly, rushing forward.] Our Papa! 



32 GRANDMOTHER ROCKER 

Bride. 
[Thoughtfully.] And a Sheraton 



Little Chair and Littlest Chair. 
[In a squeal of delight.] Our Mamma! 

Bride. 
[Meditatively.] And there was another — a throne- 
chair, I think. 

Groom. 
[Starting, as Louisa jumps up in shy ecstasy.] 
A throne-chair! And a Chippendale, and a Shera- 
ton. But how on earth did you know ? It was ages 
ago — rd almost forgotten ! 

Bride. 

[Dreamily.] I didn't know [Then, as the 

shadowy room is filled with the happy figures of 
them. ] Only — we must have the whole family back ! 

Groom. 

[Looking about comfortably.] It is a jolly old 
room! [His arms suddenly fast about her.] Oh, 
dearest, we're going to be so happy ! 

Grandmother Rocker. 
[Coming close behind them, her hands gently up- 
raised.] Dear Bride and Groom, God bless you! 



CURTAIN 



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SPIRIT GUM— For sticking on whiskers, etc. basily 

removed with Cocoa Butter or Cold Cream. Per bottle. .35 
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etc. In tubes A'lv;^ ** '^^ 

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CLOWN WHITE— For Pantomimes, Clowns, Statuary, etc. 

Per box . ................. .... .30 

CARMINE LINER— Per stick. .,...........; .30 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

III 

015 973 953 3 

AMATEURS* SUPPLIES 



MAKE-UP BOX— For either Gentleman or Lady, a handsome 
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A Sallow, f&:« Yoonr Men. It. 
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11. Koddy, for Old A^ 22. 



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